


The Mirror Lied

by Tecc



Series: The Mirror Lied [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: Awkward young love, Coming Out, F/M, Gen, Nail Polish, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, communication is key, mostly mako angsting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-25 00:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tecc/pseuds/Tecc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>De-Anoned from Kink Meme</p><p>Makoto doesn’t like to talk about it. If fact, he doesn’t talk about it at all. He just secretly paints his nails and wills his body to stop feeling so wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally written for [this](http://iwatobiswimclub.dreamwidth.org/1476.html?thread=882628) prompt on the Free! Kink Meme. 
> 
> For some reason editing this turned surprisingly taxing. I got most of the way through and sort of went "fuck this shit I am done." 
> 
> Note: Keep in mind that I am using male pronouns because Makoto ultimately considers himself a male at this point (If asked, that is how he would define himself). He's yet to realize that gender and sex are separate and they don't have to match. He doesn't know he can be one or the other or both or neither or one a little more than the other ect.

Makoto prefers to avoid looking in the mirror when he bathes. It’s not a difficult feat with steam fogging up the room and glasses off. If he runs the water scolding hot just to make sure, nobody notices. It’s just that Makoto doesn’t like being so naked. It feels so…wrong. Sometimes Makoto finds himself wondering if anyone in his family would notice if he started bathing in a swimsuit like Haruka.

Instead he drapes a hand towel across his thighs and spends more time and attention on shaving his legs than…really any other part of his body. It’s the standard excuse that he shaves for swimming, but Makoto knows he just likes the way they look so pretty and smooth; they look almost like a girl’s. If there’s one thing Makoto can say he truly likes about his body, it’s his legs. 

Makoto has to remind himself he’s a boy sometimes. It’s not a big deal, really, just little things here and there. Like when he's shaving his legs. He tells himself that’s normal. Besides, nobody has to know if he likes to pretend sometimes when he’s alone. 

Makoto decides to use his mother’s sweet smelling body wash today. He would probably use it every day if he could, but his mom would notice. Still, he indulges sometimes. It gives him a sort of content feeling. 

The feeling never lasts, though. 

It’s when he’s getting dressed after the bath that all the uncomfortable feelings return. The safe cocoon of steam and water no longer protects him. Makoto catches himself in the mirror out of the corner of his eye while dressing and is once again reminded he’s not a girl. He can see the broad shoulders, bulky muscles, and strong jawline and hates it all a little. Once, when he first hit puberty, the sight of himself made Makoto burst into tears. He’s more used to it now, able to ignore everything better. He won’t directly look at himself until he’s fully dressed, though. 

His family may not know the way Makoto feels sometimes, but they know enough to leave him alone when he comes out of a bath silent. It’s late and he’s tired and feeling vaguely depressed when he returns to his room. He didn’t like the feeling. 

The up side to being the oldest sibling is Makoto’s door has a lock. It’s reassuring to hear the click behind him when he shuts the door. Now no unsuspecting family members can barge in unexpectedly. 

Despite knowing nobody can interrupt him, Makoto’s heart thumps hard in his chest when he digs out the box hidden in the back of his closet. He only just manages to not give into the urge to look over his shoulder. Makoto doesn’t do this often. It terrifies him a little imagining his family finding out. He drags the box over to where he’s sitting on the floor and opens it. 

Makoto pulls out the contents one at a time, careful of each item. A bag of cheap make-up he bought at a convenience store a station over; three bottles of nail polish he swiped from the lost and found at school; a long skirt he went out of town to buy one weekend and then snuck into the house when nobody was looking. 

He pauses, ignoring the rest of what was left in the box, just to gaze at the pastel flower pattern printed along the hem for a moment. It’s cute. The skirt is just the most recent of his secret purchases, the first having been a sundress he bought in sixth grade during a school trip. Makoto folds the skirt back up and places it back in the box. No, he still doesn’t have the courage to try wearing it. Maybe next time, he tells himself. Next time the skirt and maybe after that the matching bra and panty set he’d somehow managed to blush his way through buying.

Today, however, Makoto contents himself with painting his toenails a bright turquoise. There isn’t swim practice tomorrow so he doesn’t have to remove the paint until tomorrow night. Makoto pulls back to admire his work when he’s done. The job isn’t particularly neat, despite his care, but the paint will come off the skin easily once it dries. Makoto drops the nail polish back into the box and stretches out. He wiggles his toes, just watching as they dry. Makoto thinks that the color suits him nicely. It’s pretty and makes him think of Haru and water. 

It isn’t long before Makoto is eyeing the make-up bag beside him. Eventually he gives in and grabs it, setting out its contents across his desk. A bright blush, eye shadow, a pink lip-gloss he wasn’t sure matched his skin tone. Makoto wishes he had more, maybe some mascara or a different set of eye shadow, but he barely knows how to put on make-up as is. It isn’t worth the money when he only does it in secret for himself. Maybe when he gets better he could try indulging. 

The blush is the first to go on once Makoto sets up the mirror on his desk. He brushes on too much, making his cheeks bright pink and unnatural. He tries to blend it in using a tissue and his fingers with marginal success. It still doesn’t look natural, but it looks better than before. The eye shadow comes next. He takes care not to open his eyes as he swipes his lids with a bright green. He feels proud as he finishes up his eyes, having succeeded in blending better than usual. His favorite part is what comes next, though. A smile ghosts across his lips as he slides the sticky sweet gloss across his bottom lip. He may not be good with make-up, but he can always make his lips look nice. He rubs his lips together and admires how they shimmer in the light. It makes him feel good even if the color isn’t quite right for him. No, pink just wasn’t his color. 

Not for the first time, Makoto wonders if he should buy a wig. They’re expensive, though. Especially the high quality ones. Besides, with his hulking figure, he doubts he could pull off a cute hairstyle, so it feels pointless. 

Checking his clock, Makoto reaches for his phone to send a message to Haruka. He likes to try and talk to the other boy whenever he secretly makes himself up like this. It always makes him feel good. Like he's normal. 

“Have you finished your homework?” Makoto types out and sends. It's a simple, everyday sort of message. Makoto’s cheeks burn under the caked on blush because it feels like so much more than that. 

Makoto cleans up his desk as he waits for a reply. his phone vibrates a moment later, after the box has been shoved back into his closet. It’s a short “yes” that comes back. 

Makoto bites into his glossed lips as he fights back a smile. “Good. Can I call you? I want to compare answers on the math homework,” he sends back.

Sure, Makoto is almost certain his answers are right, and that Haruka knows that too, but he gives the excuse all the same. What else could he have said-- that he just wants to hear the other boy’s voice? When his phone starts ringing a moment later, his excuse proves surprisingly fruitful. Makoto rushes to dig out his notebook from his bag before answering the phone with a bright “Haru-chan!”

The two talk for an hour. Actually, it’s Makoto who does the talking, struggling to find excuses to extend the conversation, while Haruka responds with sentences that get shorter as the conversation goes on. Eventually, Makoto has to admit defeat and bid Haruka a “Sweet dreams.”

The answering “You, too, Makoto” before Haru hangs up leaves Makoto breathless and pink-eared. 

Makoto will never admit to how he masturbates to the way Haruka said his name after that--frantically massaging his balls and jacking off until his skin feels raw, wishing he wasn’t too scared to slip his hand further between his legs the way Haru does in his fantasies. He doesn’t want to think about what that means. 

Makoto remembers to wipe his make-up off only as an after thought when he finishes off. In the end, he decides to leave the lip-gloss on and climbs into bed. The room smells bittersweet. As he drifts off that night, Makoto wonders if he should buy some sort of perfume next time. Something that would help him feel the way shaving his legs or wearing bright pink lip-gloss did-- more deserving of a name much cuter than he is. Quickly he reminds himself he’s a boy again and that those types of thoughts aren’t allowed. Makoto isn't even that cute a name. Not like Haruka.

Makoto wakes up to a shockingly silent room the next morning. Upon further inspection, he finds a note that tells him his mother has taken the twins out for the day and he's free to his own devices. After a quick breakfast, Makoto slips into his shoes and walks the short distance to Haruka’s house. He catches the other boy just as he’s leaving. 

“Haru!” Makoto calls out to Haruka. He gives a wave and bright smile when the other boy turns to him, “Hey, where are you going?”

“Pool,” comes Haruka’s reply as he waits for Makoto to catch up. 

Makoto gives a whimsical sigh, falling into step beside him, “I suppose it would be pointless to tell you that school is closed today.” 

“Nothing we haven’t done before.”

Makoto’s grin widens. The “I’ll go with you” is implied but not stated and the two head out on the familiar walk to their school. At least this time, the two will have the excuse of it being their own school and being in the swim club. The ramifications will probably be minimal if they’re caught. Maybe.

Not unexpectedly, Haruka is out of his clothes and in the water before Makoto even manages to finish climbing the fence. He watches as the other boy just drifts for a while, smile just barely noticeable on his face. Makoto sits on the edge of the pool, his shoes are off and pants rolled up, so he can dangle his feet in the water. Haruka looks happy. He wonders if he should swim some, too.

Makoto can’t remember if he left his legskins here or brought them home yesterday and decides he should go double check. As luck would have it, the changing room’s door is unlocked and the suit is right where he’d left it. Mentally, Makoto makes a note to never leave anything of value there over the weekend again. He steels himself and begins stripping. 

Sometimes Makoto wonders why he swims, considering how little he likes showing his body. More than that, the whole idea that he could drown at any moment is terrifying. He only ever wonders in the time it takes to change and actually get to the pool, however. As he dives in that first time, he remembers instantly why he keeps swimming.

Makoto feels the water encircling him like a cool embrace and glances over to see that look Haruka has in his eyes. After that, he could never dream of quitting. Once he’s in the water, he’s comfortable and he’s OK. Makoto may never understand Haruka’s total infatuation with water, but it’s certainly not hardship or obligation that keeps Makoto in the pool, either. Despite everything, he does love swimming. He may love that he’s spending time with Haruka even more, granted, but swimming itself is a close second. Either way, it’s worth it. 

Makoto doesn’t stay in the water as long as Haruka. He doubts anyone could. Soon, Makoto is out of the pool and lying out on the concrete to dry. His stomach has started to cramp and it growls out a reminder that it’s almost lunchtime. He’ll have to call Haruka out soon so he doesn’t spend the whole day in there. Makoto runs through a mental list of where they could go for lunch in the area. The easy way out, of course, would be a convenience store. He kind of liked the idea of eating out, though. He’d ask Haruka. 

Almost like he read his mind, Haruka swims up to the side of the pool and tells Makoto he wants cold soba. Makoto can’t hide the slight curve of a smile forming on his lips as he goes to help Haruka out of the pool. He’s pulling the other boy up when he spots Haruka’s attention aimed not at his face as usual, but down toward the ground. Curious, Makoto glances down as well. He realizes instantly what caught Haruka’s attention. He’d forgotten to remove the nail polish. 

“…Ah. Uh, this is…” Makoto wracked his brain for an excuse good enough. Why couldn’t Haruka have stayed oblivious a bit longer? 

Before Makoto can stumble through an excuse, Haruka cuts in, “I like the color. It suits you.” 

Speechless, Makoto flushes from head to toe, suddenly aware that he’s still gripping the other boy’s hand. “Eh, um, Thank you,” he finally chokes out. 

Haruka releases his hand and says, “Paint mine, too, sometime,” as he walks past. Makoto thinks he might faint. 

Makoto gives a noncommittal gurgling sound and escapes to the lockers to change and recompose. It’s honestly stupid to get so worked up. Haruka has always been a little weird. Sometimes social norms escaped him. That didn’t stop his heart from swelling, though. Haruka had said “it suits you” like it was the most natural thing in the world. A part of his mind whispered back that the boy must have been lying because there was no way it actually suited him, but he shoved it to the back of his mind. 

Hoping the red had left his cheeks, Makoto returns to where Haruka is waiting for him already fully dressed. Act normal, he tells himself. 

“So, soba?” Makoto ignores the way he smiles a little too widely. Haruka turns and starts walking. Makoto runs to catch up.

Makoto resists the urge to heave a sigh as he cleans the polish off his toenails with a cotton ball that night. There’s no helping it. They have swimming practice tomorrow. Haruka knowing is one thing; Rei, Nagisa or Kou finding out, much less anyone else, isn’t something he’s at all mentally prepared for. 

Makoto opens the window to aerate the room, not liking the strong smell of the nail polish remover. The stars are more visible than usual and put a smile on Makoto’s face. 

Makoto’s mother calls him down to dinner and he’s engulfed in the sound of cheerfulness and people. Ren and Ran bicker and compete for Makoto’s attention and he does his best to accommodate their loud demands. After dinner, he helps them both with homework while his mother cleans the dishes, asking about his day. 

Makoto can’t quite bring himself to say, “Haru complimented my toenails. I think I might be kind of in love with him” as he smiles and tells her all that happened that day. The twins ask when Haruka will come over again and Makoto promises to ask him tomorrow. 

His bath that night is a quick one; It’s not good to overindulge all the time the way Haruka does. As Makoto soaks, he wonders what it would be like if Haruka ever looked at him the way he looked at the ocean. It’s a stupid thought, really. Like that’d ever happen. He immediately gets out of the tepid water and dries off. 

Makoto collapses into bed right out of the bath, not even bothering to blow dry his hair. It would look awful in the morning, but he can’t be bothered. Checking his phone, Makoto’s surprised to find a missed call from Haruka. How rare. Brows furrowed, he presses the call back button and holds it up to this ear. 

The phone rings three times before it connects, Haruka’s voice coming through the receiver, “Makoto?”

Makoto smiles at his name and says, “Sorry, I was in the bath. You called?”

“…Yeah, I did,” Haruka says in a way that reveals absolutely nothing. 

Deciding to help him along, Makoto adds, “And? What’d you want to talk about?”

There’s a moment’s pause before Haruka says, “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Crinkling his brow in amused confusion, Makoto decides to drop the topic for now. “Ren and Ran demand you come by soon. Apparently you’re more fun than I am,” he says instead. 

“No, they adore you,” Haruka says, “They only like me because you do.” 

Makoto’s heart nearly leaps out of his throat and he smiles weakly. “That’s not true. You’re also better at videogames than me,” he jokes, and then a little more seriously, “They love spending time with you.”

“Only because I’m not there often enough for them to get sick of me.”

Makoto bites his tongue at that, “Mom also wants to know if you’re eating well. Come over for dinner this week. I mean it.”

Haruka exhales deeply into the receiver and it’s hard to tell whether it’s a sigh over the phone. “Fine,” he agrees, “Your mother worries too much.”

“I worry, too,” Makoto says and, after a pause, “You know you’re like family, right?” To them. To me.

“…Yeah,” Haruka’s voice is quiet when he responds and his tone says more than his words. “I know,” it says, “You’re all like family for me, too. More than my own.”

Makoto doesn’t say anything more about it, though. Instead he smiles and says, “You can stay the night, too.”

“Only if you want,” Haruka replies. Makoto bites his lip and wonders how Haruka would respond if he were a girl. His eyes shift to his closet. It would be too weird to dig out the lip-gloss at this point. 

“Of course I do. I like it when you stay over,” Makoto says and hopes Haruka never realizes exactly how inappropriate his thoughts are at that moment. Losing the friendship they shared would crush him. 

There’s a long, comfortable silence as the conversation tapers off and Makoto basks in the knowledge that Haruka is there with him. He wonders what the other boy is thinking. 

Eventually, Makoto glances at the clock and bites back a sigh, “I should go.”

“…Yeah,” is Haruka’s reply. 

“Let me know when you’re free this week.”

“Yeah.”

“Sweet dreams,” Makoto adds, holding his breath as he waits for the reply.

“Yeah,” is all Haruka says, however, before he hangs up. 

Makoto is a little disappointed, but it can’t be helped. He shouldn’t have expected too much. This is Haruka, after all. Dropping his phone onto the nightstand, Makoto turns off the light and rolls over to sleep. 

It’s business as usual Monday morning. Makoto’s hair is a mess when he wakes up and he ends up spending half an hour fighting his cowlicks into submission. Breakfast is quick and he’s headed to Haruka’s house with two lunches in hand. What’s surprising is that Haruka is already on the steps waiting for him when Makoto arrives. Usually he has to fight tooth and nail to get him away from the bathtub and out the door. 

Makoto smiles and waves, speeding up his pace to reach the other boy, “This is unusual.”

Haruka makes a little “hmm” but says nothing. 

The two take their time getting to school. Without their usual morning routine, it’s no surprise when they get to school early. They’re not the first ones in the classroom, but early enough that the classroom feels empty. The people already there are silent, each going about their own activity. Makoto pulls a chair up to Haruka’s desk and sinks down into it comfortably with a book. Haruka occupies himself by staring absentmindedly out the window. 

“Friday.”

Makoto is so content to absorb himself in his book that it takes him a moment to register that Haruka has spoken. Blinking, he looks up in surprise, “Sorry, what?”

Haruka’s brow creases, “I’ll come over Friday.” 

“Oh. Ok,” Makoto says, “I’ll let my mom know.” 

Haruka stares at Makoto like he’s expecting something more and Makoto worries that he’s missed something. The boy turns away again and Makoto hesitantly returns to his book. 

He wasn’t sure at first, but now he’s sure. Haruka is acting weird today. Makoto kept an eye on him all through class and the boy had spent the morning alternating between sighing while staring out the window and scribbling something that was definitely not notes into his notebook. That wouldn’t be so worrying if not for the look on Haruka’s face. Makoto gets increasingly more anxious as the day goes on. He wants to ask at lunch, but Nagisa and Kou are with them and Haruka resolutely rolls over and shuts the world out after eating. Makoto decides he’ll have to wait until after school. 

Haruka’s mood seems to perk up as swimming practice rolls around and Makoto almost forgets the boy’s strange behavior. They swim until a teacher comes to yell at them that the school is closing. Nagisa and Rei are already changing when Makoto reaches out a hand to help Haruka out of the pool. Haruka stares at Makoto’s feet again when he climbs out. Makoto glances down, wondering why. His feet are the same as usual today. When he glances up again, Haruka is pressing his lips together and turning in the direction of the changing room. If Makoto didn’t know better, he’d think Haruka had almost looked disappointed. 

By the time Makoto is finished changing, Haruka is already gone. 

Haruka is seemingly back to normal by the next day. There’s only one thing nagging at the back of his mind: Haruka is too quiet. Makoto asks Nagisa once and the boy says he hasn’t noticed a thing. It was at that point Makoto wonders if it was all in his head. Haruka is always quiet, after all.

Friday rolls around and Makoto is a little relieved. If there is something bothering Haruka, lying alone together in the dark is the perfect environment to say something. If not then, then nothing is ever going to be said. 

They part ways on the way home and Haruka shows up half an hour later dressed in casual clothes and carrying a bag with him. He seems happy through dinner, engaging with Makoto’s family like he can’t quite help himself. Ren and Ran are as obnoxious as they are adorable when they demand to be played with. Haruka is patient and indulgent in a way none of their friends would believe if Makoto ever told them. He liked keeping it a secret just between them, though. 

Eventually, the twins are passing out where they stand and sent to bed. Makoto and Haruka retreat to Makoto’s room. Makoto flops down onto his bed and is thrown for a loop when he turns his head to find Haruka pulling nail polish out of his bag. Immediately, he’s sitting up again and asking, “Haru? What are you doing?”

Haruka just stares at him a bit like he’s stupid and says, “I told you I wanted you to paint my nails before.” 

Feeling a bit like he’s caught in a trap, Makoto meekly asks, “You weren’t joking?” It’s a stupid thing to say, really. 

Haruka seems to agree when he says, “You think I would joke like that.” 

“No,” Makoto admits, sitting down in front of Haruka, “Just, I don’t know. It’s weird.”

Haruka holds out the bottle of polish to Makoto and splays his toes, “You worry too much.” 

Makoto pauses a moment before he reaches out for the bottle. He examines the color; it’s a dark blue-green. The label reads Deep Sea and Makoto gives a strained laugh, “Of course. I thought it was weird you brought your own.” 

Haruka doesn’t reply and Makoto’s laughter tappers off into an awkward silence. Makoto opens the bottle in his hands and concentrates on painting Haruka’s toenails better than he’s usually able to paint his own. He tries not to think about what on earth is going on. 

Makoto is finishing up on the last toe of the first foot when Haruka suddenly says, “I know.” The loudness of his voice in the silent room startles Makoto into painting past the nail and across the rest of the little toe. 

Makoto glances up at Haruka with an embarrassed smile and says, “Sorry, what?”

“Makoto,” He says, this time looking Makoto in the eye and repeats, “I know.” 

The smile on Makoto’s face freezes in place and his blood runs cold, “N-Know what?”

Haruka watches a while before saying, “The box in your closet.” 

The smile slips right off Makoto’s face then. He looks away from Haruka, chin quavering and eyes burning as he struggles to compose himself. After a few false starts, Makoto says, “How long.” 

“Since middle school.” 

This has Makoto shooting straight up, looking down at Haruka with furious eyes, “Why didn’t you say anything?” His voice cracks halfway through the last word and he clears his throat. He wants to run away but his feet are frozen. 

Oh God, Haruka knew this whole time.

Haruka is the one looking away now, “You didn’t want me to know.”

Makoto’s shoulders tense, “You still should have said something.” He’s shaking now. 

“I wanted you to tell me yourself,” Haruka curls his hands into fists beside him, “I was waiting.” 

The sentence is a shock to Makoto’s system. Now He’s struggling not to cry because Haruka had been waiting for him. For years. He hates himself in the knowledge that if Haruka hadn’t said anything, he’d still be waiting. Makoto feels so weak and pathetic. 

Swallowing thickly, Makoto drops back down in front of Haruka. He picks up the nail polish with shaking hands. Painting Haruka’s other foot is harder than the first, every unconscious jerk of his fingers smearing polish all over Haruka’s toes. Next thing Makoto knows, he’s sobbing into Haruka’s knees and apologizing over and over again. It’s an ugly cry with snot and blotchy cheeks. He can feel Haruka’s body going rigid beneath him and feels stupid for breaking down over something so insignificant. What was he even crying about? He was making Haruka uncomfortable. 

Makoto stays like that until his sobbing calms down and he can breathe again. Sniffing and rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand, Makoto apologizes one more time. 

For some reason, it’s that last apology that finally has Haruka reaching out to place a hand on Makoto’s head. “Nothing to apologize for,” he says. 

All over again, Makoto feels stupid and wrong and he’s ashamed of himself. He reaches a hand out to cling at the material of Haruka’s shorts and hopes to God the other boy couldn’t see his face. 

Struggling past the lump in his throat, Makoto suddenly starts talking. Once he starts, he can’t stop and he’s rambling. All the things Makoto has been bottling up come pouring out. He tells Haruka that he hates the way he looks because he feels ugly and gangly and he wishes he were shorter and cuter like Kou. About how sometimes he doesn’t feel quite right in his body, how it makes him feel better to paint his nails; that he can pretend sometimes when he doesn’t have to look at himself. Makoto stutters his way through when he first started sneaking stuff into the box and how he still can’t bring himself to wear any of it but the make-up because he’s scared and knows it wouldn’t suit him. Makoto feels like he’s going to throw up when he struggles to admit he would have rather been a girl; he knows that it’s disgusting. 

Makoto is on the verge of hyperventilating when he’s finally run out of things to say but “I love you” and he’s not ready for that yet so he clenches his mouth shut and concentrates on breathing. He apologizes again. Haruka’s hand moves from where it had been running fingers through Makoto’s hair down to rest against the nape of his neck. Makoto shivers at the contact. 

“It’s okay,” Haruka says, “I know.” 

Makoto wants to laugh because there’s no way he could have possibly known all that but he wants to believe him, “It’s not ok at all, Haruka.”

“Yes it is. You think too much,” he says, the grip on Makoto’s nape tightening and then moving to his shoulder. He pushes Makoto back, away from where he’s clutching Haruka’s legs, and tilts his head so he can see Makoto’s face when he says, “It doesn’t matter if you’re a boy or girl. Makoto is Makoto and that won’t change.” 

Haruka made it sound so simple. Makoto tells himself that he has already fulfilled his crying quota for the week and is absolutely not allows to break down into ugly sobs again. He wants to argue that it’s not that simple. Everything changes if he decides he wants to be a girl. He doesn’t say anything, though, because he wants to pretend a while that maybe it is actually that simple.

Makoto attempts a laugh and leans further out of Haruka’s grip. He covers his face with a hand and reaches over to his desk to grab a packet of tissues. He blows his nose and wipes his face. His eyes are stinging now and Makoto wonders how he hadn’t noticed before. He reaches for his contact case and struggles not to poke an eye out as he removes his contacts and slips on his glasses with shaky hands. When he glances up, he notices Haruka just staring at him. 

“No, don’t look,” Makoto says, covering his face again, this time with a fresh tissue between his hands. He must look all puffy and awful. He hates his crying face. 

Haruka reaches a hand out and pokes at a part of cheek Makoto didn’t quite manage to cover up with his fingers. Makoto peaks out over the tissue and sees the corners of Haruka’s mouth dip into a frown. 

“…What,” Makoto demands, swiping at Haruka’s hand. 

“You haven’t finished my toenails.”

Sure enough, when Makoto glances down, he finds two nails have yet to be painted Deep Sea green. Makoto snorts as he takes in the botched paint job of the other three toes. He lifts his head to make a joke about it and Haruka is smiling at him like he’s relieved. Blushing, Makoto turns back down and silently finishes Haruka’s nails. 

“The paint will come off the skin if you wash it,” Makoto finally says as he screws the cap back onto the bottle of polish. 

Haruka examines his nails. “Thanks,” He says, “Want me to do yours?” He leans over and pulls out a second bottle of polish from his bag. This time it’s a peach color called Sweet Pop. 

“…You’re joking,” Makoto deadpans. Haruka just waits, holding the bottle up and looking way too excided, until Makoto relents and sticks his feet out toward the other boy, “You could have at least chosen something less pink.”

“But it suits you,” Haruka replies as he uncaps the polish. A look of intense concentration takes over his face as he crouches close. He begins carefully painting each nail and, damn it, Haruka’s good at this. Better than Makoto’s ever been. He tries not to get jealous. 

“No it doesn’t. Look, see? My skin is too dark,” Makoto waves the finished foot back and forth in front of Haruka’s face for emphases. 

Haruka does pull back to look for a moment and then leans back in to finish the second foot, “No, it’s cute. If you don’t like it, though, I’ll get a different color next time.”

Makoto isn’t sure which part of that comment to react to: the “cute” part or the “next time.” He decides it’s best not to react at all. Haruka finishes the painting and the two sit together waiting for the polish to dry. It’s boring and vaguely awkward. 

“…Videogame?” Makoto asks. 

“Yeah,” Haruka agrees and they relocate to Makoto’s bed.

Makoto mutes the game so the sound won’t wake up the other people in the house and they begin playing. That's when it occurs to Makoto, “…Oh my God. I hope my family didn’t hear my sobbing fit earlier.” Suddenly Makoto is panicking, thinking of the possibility that his parents had overheard everything he had told Haruka. Or worse, the twins. 

Haruka kisses his cheek suddenly and Makoto’s mind goes blank. “It’ll be fine,” Haruka says just as Makoto’s character dies on screen. 

Makoto looks over to see Haruka’s usual uninterested expression ruined by the telling pink of his ears. His character follows Makoto’s into death soon after. 

On Monday, Makoto and Haruka show up at practice with their toenails still painted and Nagisa complains that they had all the fun without him. The next time Makoto paints his nails, it’s with the entire Iwatobi swim club. Haruka brings Makoto Embrace Me. It’s a dark pink and Makoto rolls his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who's wondering, Haru is apparently a fan of MAC products.
> 
> So I've gotten a lot of reviews from people telling me about their own stories and experiences. I just wanted to say that every single one means a lot to me and I love hearing from all of you. If you want to talk, I'll do my best to be a good listener and I will always respond. Even if my response sounds a little awkward I swear it's from the heart. I just have a vague and roundabout way of speaking.


	2. Bonus Haru POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small peek into Haruka's thoughts on some of what happened.

...Cute. 

Haruka stares wistfully at the display window of a jewelry shop. The pair of flower hairpins on display would suit Makoto. He looks at the price again and enters the shop. Five minutes later, he leaves the shop with a small box tucked into his bag. 

Haruka sighs and stares out at the ocean the rest of the walk home. Makoto hadn’t said anything today. Haruka had thought that, after all this time, Makoto was finally going to say something to him. She had even made the point to wear nail polish when they’d gone swimming that weekend. 

Haruka is forced to grudgingly admit that it had probably been nothing more than a coincidental slipup on Makoto’s part. And after Haruka had made it a point to show he was ok with Makoto being whoever she wanted. It’s frustrating. 

Haruka steps into his home and goes straight for his room. He takes the box out of his bag and drops it into the bottom right drawer of his desk. He sighs again, staring down at the contents of the drawer. It was where gifts for Makoto went to die, apparently. As time goes on, it feels less and less likely that Makoto is ever going to say anything. It kind of hurts, actually. 

Haruka strips down and goes to contemplate things in the tub.  
It seems Haruka would have to take things into his own hands and show her that she doesn’t have to be alone. He wants to be able to buy Makoto cute things and see her in clothes that suit her better. 

He wants Makoto to hurry up and be his girlfriend already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had most of Haru's thoughts planned out as I wrote from Mako's perspective and it explains so much of how he acts. I just thought I should share a small portion of that.
> 
> ...He's surprisingly corny.


End file.
